


Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

by Gleaming_Spires (cuppaktea)



Category: History Boys (2006), History Boys - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, OMCs I accidentally made, because I fail at writing original characters, brief mentions of sexual abuse, much pining of the Posner variety, no actual sexual abuse, they're not important though, university fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-03-25 17:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13839648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuppaktea/pseuds/Gleaming_Spires
Summary: Posner has a problem and Dakin wants to help... and won't take no for an answer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I feel fairly certain that cafes in bookshops weren’t a thing in the mid-80s but as I wasn’t there, I’m taking a liberty and just assuming the world has always been the way it is now to make my life easier… please excuse my poetic license with the fact.
> 
> (also I wrote something with zero Irwin *le gasp* I don't know what came over me)
> 
> Title from an Ella Fitzgerald song of the same name.

 

 

 

 

David is sitting in the café section of Blackwells, wondering to his silent cup of tea how his life turned out to be such a mess, when a scraping sound alerts him to somebody pulling out the chair opposite and Dakin, of all people, plonks himself down at his table.

 

“Alright, Pos?”

 

David glances around warily.

 

“Yeees.”

 

“I only ask because you look like someone kicked your puppy.”

 

“Did someone send you over here?”

 

“What? No. I was just getting a coffee. I’ve got some work to do, thought it might help me concentrate.”

 

He gestures to a heavy textbook and notepad, which seem to corroborate his story.

 

“Well don’t let me keep you, I expect you’re here with people.”

 

“I am capable of going to a bookshop by myself. “

 

“Oh. It’s just you never seem to go anywhere alone -  when I see you these days, around, that is, I’m not stalking you or anything.”

 

He laughs nervously and immediately bites the inside of his lip to punish himself.

 

Dakin grins, looking extremely self-satisfied.

 

“It’s fine, Pos, I know what you mean. Anyway, I saw you sitting here moping and thought you might like some company. You don’t mind, do you?”

 

“Knock yourself out. I’m not moping though.”

 

Dakin opens his book and reads quietly for a moment. He writes about three words of notes before he feels the need to pry.

 

“So, what’s up?”

 

“Nothing really, just personal problems. You wouldn’t understand.”

 

Dakin frowns, looking offended (in David’s opinion, unreasonably so).

 

“Why not? I’m a person, aren’t I?”

 

Deciding that he will probably regret it, David plunges ahead anyway, eager to get it off his chest.

 

“Have you ever… **been** with someone you didn’t really like?”

 

Dakin looks at him as if he’s asked him something as bizarre as has he ever felt thirsty.

 

“Yes.”

 

“And afterwards…?

 

Dakin frowns in confusion. “Afterwards what?”

 

David picks at the table edge with his fingernail.

 

“You didn’t, I don’t know, hate yourself?”

 

He risks an embarrassed glance up at Dakin.

 

“Why would I?” Sudden concern flashes across Dakin's face. The expression looks wrong there.  “Did you get hurt or something?”

 

“No. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

 

Dakin actually looks a bit peaky and David’s about to ask him if he’s feeling unwell when he leans in close and continues in a near-whisper.

 

“Look, if you didn’t really want it, if someone… took advantage, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of, there’s people you can talk to.”

 

David reels back in shock.

 

“Fuck! Nothing like that.”

 

“Jesus, Pos, you scared me!”

 

“It’s not my fault! You’re the one who automatically assumed I got raped because you saw me looking sad!”

 

A girl David vaguely recognises whips round to frown at him and he ducks his head.

 

“So, I didn’t get raped, do you still care or are you going to sod off now?” He hisses.

 

“No need to be like that, I’m only looking out for you.”

 

“Well, you don’t need to. I can manage to defend myself against my slew of suitors, thanks.”

 

“Sorry, you didn’t have the early training the rest of us did. Thought you might need some help.”

 

Dakin shrugs and goes back to studying. David almost feels sorry for him.

 

He doesn’t even know why he’s trying to talk to him, it’s not as if Dakin’s ever shown any real sympathetic inclinations before, but he’s opened his mouth to explain before he can stop himself.

 

“Well, have you ever slept with somebody because you were thinking about someone else, someone you couldn’t have?”

 

“No.” Dakin lies. “Was it me?” He laughs.

 

“Fuck off.” David gathers up his books and stands to go.

 

“Wait, Pos, I’m trying to help.”

 

“Actually, you’re taking the piss, you nosy bastard.”

 

“I’m not, I swear, I’m listening. Pos, David, wait.” He reaches out to touch his friend’s hand and David reluctantly sits back down.

 

“Is it someone I know?”

 

David goes pink.

 

“It doesn’t matter. I just had a stupid one night stand and now I hate myself a bit.”

 

“Because you wanted it to be this other person?”

 

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

 

Laughter plays around Dakin’s mouth again.

 

“Why don’t you go and ask this other bloke? When you do know.”

 

“He’ll say no.”

 

“That never used to stop you.”

 

David gets the distinct impression that he's still being mocked. 

 

“Why do you care?”

 

Dakin shrugs.

 

“You look more miserable than I’ve ever seen you, which considering what a miserable bastard you normally are, is saying something.”

 

“Thank you so much for your kind words of support.”

 

“Is it that one on your staircase from the rowing club?” Dakin elbows him in what David assumes he thinks is a conspiratorial gesture.

 

“I don’t think he’d be averse.”

 

David rubs his side where Dakin jabbed him. “No, he’s a complete tosser.”

 

Dakin shrugs again. “Nice arms though.”

 

“I’m looking for a bit more substance than nice arms these days.”

 

David tries not to cringe at his own words and absently pushes a strand of wavy hair out of his eyes. He had thought growing it longer would make him look more interesting but it’s so annoying he’s half a mind to shave it all off. This decision has nothing at all to do with the way the dickhead from last night kept tugging at it.

 

Dakin regards him for a long moment and decides that Pos is infinitely more attractive now he’s grown his hair a bit and shifted his fashion style away from the 1950s.

 

“Have you thought about ditching the depressed and desperate look?”

 

“Is this still you trying to help?”

 

“Yes. You’re not bad looking you just need to brighten up a bit. You think he’s not interested, but maybe every time he sees you you’re there looking as if somebody’s died and it seems tactless to make a move on you.”

 

David opens his mouth, closes it and opens it again. 

 

“I honestly don’t know what to say to you.”

 

Dakin apparently mistakes this for a compliment because he beams.

 

“Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you **_trying_** to help, but seriously, why are you here?”

 

“You’re one of my oldest friends and I saw you looking low… low _er_ than normal.”

 

“What, really?”

 

“You’re joking? You look like you’ve been given two weeks to live!”

 

“No, I mean, really I’m one of your oldest friends, in your head?”

 

“We went to school together didn’t we?”

 

“You barely spoke to me in seven years! You said I was tedious and slightly pathetic.”

 

“I didn’t!”

 

“Adil told me you did.”

 

“Fine. I’m sorry. I’ve matured. I consider you a friend – happy?”

 

“And that’s the only reason you’re here?”

 

“No. I needed a book. I wanted coffee. I thought I’d stop you drowning yourself in cold tea while I was here.”

 

David regards him sceptically. Dakin rolls his eyes.

 

“If you must know, I got dumped. I wasn’t in the mood for company or sitting in my room like a loser.”

 

“Girl or boy?”

 

“Girl! I don’t date boys, I just shag them.”

 

Pos nods, wisely. “Because of how heterosexual you are.”

 

Dakin narrows his eyes.

 

“Were you always this much of a bitch?”

 

“Yes. Who dumped you?”

 

“My girlfriend, Flick!” He exclaims as if it’s absurd that David hasn’t been keeping up with them in OK! magazine.

 

“Is that a person’s name?”

 

“It’s short for Felicity. It’s cute. We’d been going out for almost a month!”

 

“Ah, a long-term relationship then. Still, I don’t think I met her. Why’d she dump you?”

 

“She doesn’t think we’re compatible. I don’t think she really knows, just wanted something else, you know what women are like.”

 

He doesn’t think her exact words on the subject (that he is selfish in bed and that she thinks he might be gay) are worth mentioning to Posner.

 

David hangs his head. “Oh.”

 

“No need for you to take it to heart, she didn’t dump you.”

 

“Sorry, it’s just that wasn’t what I was expecting you to say.”

 

“Sorry to disappoint you with my surprise dumping. What were you expecting? That I had an affair with a centaur?”

 

“I just thought maybe Scripps sent you here to keep an eye on me or something.”

 

Dakin laughs “Why would Scripps send me here to spy on you? If he wants to see you he’ll come and see you.”

 

Posner hangs his head even lower over his teacup.

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

Dakin’s mouth drops open and he leans even further into David’s space.

 

“Is Scripps your mystery fantasy man?”

 

David wants to say no, but he wavers for just a second too long.

 

“He is! You’ve got a thing for Scrippsy!”

 

David narrows his eyes and glares across the table.

 

“Maybe you could shout that a bit louder.”

 

Dakin smirks in a way that would have made David’s stomach flip somersaults a year ago, nowadays it's just infuriating.

 

“You could do a lot worse.”

 

“I have done.”

 

“Is that why you think he’s spying on you? Have you told him?”

 

“No, I bumped into him this morning coming out of – well as I was going home. I sort of snapped at him.”

 

“Pulling his pigtails, is it?”

 

“Don’t be childish.” David says before he remembers who it is he’s talking to. “I felt like he was judging me.”

 

“Scrippsy?! That’s definitely in your head.”

 

“Thanks for that, Sigmund Freud. I worked that one out for myself.”

 

Dakin holds his hands up in surrender.

 

“… Unfortunately, I told him to piss off and mind his own business before I reached that conclusion.”

 

“So?” Dakin’s expression says he doesn’t think this is a problem, David feels a sudden wave of commiseration towards Felicity.

 

“Go and say sorry, he’ll forgive you in a heartbeat, it’s only Scripps, he’s not one to hold a grudge.”

 

“The trouble is I can’t look him in the face, not now I’ve been thinking about him all night while I – well, you get the picture.”

 

Dakin just continues to smirk.

 

“Also, I might have called this other bloke Don a couple of times, and he’s definitely not the sort to keep it to himself.”

 

“Good. Sounds like just the sort of motivation you need to go and talk to him yourself straight away.”

 

“Why? So I can experience him feeling sorry for me, first hand? _Poor Posner, pathetically in love with one of his long-suffering friends again_.”

 

“I don’t think he’d have any objections.”

 

“Nor do I. He’s far too nice, that’s not the point though.”

 

“No, I mean, I think he’d be interested.”

 

David studies his face for signs of mischief for a long moment.

 

“Are you taking the piss again?”

 

“No, I swear! All this God stuff, I’m not saying he doesn’t believe in it but part of his devotion is definitely fear. Talk about Freud. He says he’s waiting to lose his virginity but never looks twice at girls, instead he sneaks off to get on his knees for a big powerful man at every opportunity.”

 

“That’s supposed to be God, is it? If you weren’t going to Hell before, you are now.”

 

“There is no hell, Pos, there’s only other people. And I’m here to help you with them.”

 

“You do realise that your mind is warped, though, Dakin? I’m not sure that the way you see the world is really accurate.”

 

“I’m Scripps’s oldest friend, trust me his psychology is incredibly simplistic. I’ve known since he was about nine.”

 

“Known what?”

 

“He’s as bent as a nine-bob note.”

 

“Now who’s projecting?” David mutters to his tea.

 

Dakin is unperturbed.

 

“You can call me names all you like but I would think you’d be more interested in the solution to your problem.”

 

“Sorry, it’s just I’m ninety percent convinced you’re talking shit, and for the record, pointing out your failed heterosexuality is not ‘calling you names’.”

 

“Alright, prove it.”

 

“Prove what?”

 

A slow, extremely dangerous grin spreads across Dakin’s face.

 

“Prove to me that Scripps is straight.”

 

David thinks for a minute. “I’m going to regret asking this, but how?”

 

“Kiss him.”

 

“How would that prove anything?”

 

“If he kisses you back it’ll prove something.”

 

“Yes, that he’s surprised, or polite enough not to hurt my feelings.”

 

“Or that he’s hot for you. You never know, he might take it further, he’s got enough pent-up frustration.”

 

“That’s the stupidest plan I ever heard. If he doesn’t it won’t prove he’s straight, he might just not be interested in me.”

 

“Either way you can stop feeling sorry for yourself and move on with your life, and maybe shag somebody you actually like, for a change.”

 

There is a certain appeal to Dakin’s logic, the trouble is it leaves him with the dilemma of having to plant one on one of his dearest friends, preferably without damaging either their friendship or his dignity.

 

“He never looks at men, or talks about them.”

 

“You could say the same about women. He loves musicals, he loves poetry - ”

 

“F.Y.I. cheap tired stereotyping isn’t a foolproof method of assessing someone’s sexuality.”

 

“Alright then, he’s always spending time hanging around you without a good reason, practising music, reading, listening to your problems with that big, sad, dopey look on his face.”

 

“That’s real friendship, Dakin! Not just being in the same class at school. It’s too important for me to jeopardise.”

 

Dakin shakes his head slowly and smiles in a way that makes David want to smack him.

 

“So you’re his only friend are you? Because he doesn’t do those things with anyone else. He certainly doesn’t look all sad when I tell him my romantic woes.”

 

“Yes, well… it’s a different kind of friendship.”

 

Dakin keeps on shaking his head, David hopes he strains his neck.

 

“Pos, Pos, you poor little fool.”

 

“What are you suggesting?”

 

“He’s crazy about you, he just needs a little shove to realise it. One I have every faith in your ability to give him.”

 

“And then what? You appear behind a curtain with a camera?”

 

“No, I’m trying to help! You can tell me about it afterwards, or keep it to yourselves, I’ve done my bit.”

 

“Why are you being nice?” David asks, suspiciously.

 

Dakin looks confused. “I am nice.”

 

“Right, of course. And you’re serious about Don fancying me?”

 

“He has done for ages!”

 

“But this is all conjecture? He hasn’t said anything to you?”

 

“He doesn’t have to. He’s always chuntering on about you when you aren’t there.”

 

“Well, even if he does - not that I’m saying I believe you, he probably objects on religious grounds.”

 

“Yeah, that or he thinks you aren’t interested because you’re always mooning after somebody else.”

 

David weighs up the options in his mind. The thought of losing Don as a friend terrifies him. He’ll move on at some point, and they’ll still have their friendship if he never mentions it. On the other hand if what Dakin says is true then he’s torturing them both by not speaking out. Of course, Don might reject him even if he does have those kinds of feelings for him, it is against his religion after all, and then David will have made them both miserable _and_ lost his best friend.

 

“I thought you said he’ll find out anyway, from this prick you shagged.” Dakin says, as if reading his mind.

 

“Yes, but at least that way he can ignore it if he wants to.”

 

“Well, in that case, why don’t I talk to him?”

 

“No! I forbid it!” People from several nearby tables look round and Dakin settles back in his chair wearing an expression of smug amusement.

 

“Suit yourself. Of course, if you’re serious about wanting to leave the whole thing alone, then I know this very nice guy, Giles who’s at Balliol. I think you’d like him.”

 

“Thanks for the offer but I’d rather not be set up with someone from your reject pile.”

 

“Who says I rejected him? He comes with my full endorsement.”

 

David grimaces. “Please stop trying to help me.”

 

“I can’t, you’re getting me down."

 

Dakin swigs the last of his coffee and David breathes a premature sigh of relief.

 

"What if I could prove to you that he’d be interested?”

 

“I mean it, I don’t think I can take any more of your help.”

 

“Well you won’t do it for yourself, and I have an attractive gay friend who’d like some company.”

 

Dakin stands up and collects his textbook and practically virginal notebook.

 

“Dakin!” David hisses.

 

Dakin gives him a cheery wave.

 

“I will kill you.”

 

Left alone with the stone cold tea he lets the full force of his situation hit him. “Fuck.”

 

*

 

Predictably when he gets to Don’s place, Dakin is already there, ensconced in an armchair with his smirk turned on full power.

 

Scripps, ever the perfect gentleman, invites him in as though David hadn’t been behaving like an utter arse towards him only this morning.

 

Dakin grins at him from across the room before giving him a pointed look and excusing himself for the lavatory like the mother in a Jane Austen novel (David expects that they probably didn't give that as the exact excuse but otherwise the similarity is uncanny).

 

Gnawing on his lip, David worries whether it would be worse to say nothing and suffer whatever agonies Dakin has in mind, or to come clean and risk never having Don look the same way at him again.

 

He's just decided to apologise for his earlier behaviour with the hope the right words will come from there, when Scripps beats him to it.

 

“Pos, I’m so sorry about this morning, it was none of my business.”

 

“Oh, that’s alright.”

 

“I was just surprised to see you is all. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

 

“No, I’m sorry -”

 

“No need, you were right, I was being nosy. Anyway, Dakin and I are going out tonight with some of his other mates, do you want to come? It’d be nice to have you there, almost a reunion.”

 

David is going to say no thanks, he’d rather pull out all of his nostril hair than watch Dakin trying to get Don into bed with some hooray Henry while he gets off with half the pub, but Dakin chooses that moment to reappear. David wouldn’t put it past him to have been listening at the door.

 

“Absolutely, you’ve got nothing on have you, Pos? It’ll be great.”

 

Don turns hopeful eyes on him and before he can think better of it David is on his way home to get his glad rags on. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Scripps makes friends and Posner makes enemies (mostly with Dakin)

 

 

Dakin’s friend Giles is as classically handsome and so-posh-it-hurts, as David suspected he would be, but he actually turns out to be an alright sort of bloke. If he met him under his own steam David suspects he would probably be interested. As it is he fucking hates him.

 

Dakin’s match-making technique is simple and consists of buying drinks for Scripps faster than he can finish them and making sure that he is sitting between Giles and Posner.

 

After about three minutes of polite introductory small talk, Dakin instructs Giles to “tell Scrippsy about coming out” before telling the table (and most of the pub) that Giles and Scripps are both Christians “so he probably gets it.”

 

David can’t hide his wince but neither Scripps nor Giles seem to care.

 

“Giles is very into Jesus, like you Scrippsy.” He continues, his smile giving off innuendo in waves.

 

“Only his parents are a bit stricter about the whole thing. They’re happy with him loving a man but only if he's been dead a couple of millennia”

 

He turns to David, who tries to say that he’s sure Giles appreciates this personal stuff being bandied about with near total strangers, only he can’t get a word in.

 

“Giles sings in the chapel choir in his college, as well.” Dakin says, with a special smile at David.

 

David thinks Giles would be well within his rights to tell Dakin to shut the fuck up and let him introduce himself and risks a glance towards him, only to find him chatting chummily away to Don about his experiences as a gay Christian.

 

Granted, he moves fast. That explains his friendship with Dakin at any rate.

 

Scripps listens, apparently interested, making sympathetic noises and comments about how rough it must be to have super religious parents who can’t just accept you for who you were.

 

David bites his lip in order to stop his mouth hanging open in indignation. He can’t actually remember Scripps commiserating with him on the subject ever. Laughing and ruffling his hair, yes. Genuine sympathy, not so much.

 

Unfortunately, his sour expression seems to confirm to Scripps that he is still angry with him after their morning encounter and he avoids him for most of the evening, other than to shoot him the odd concerned glance.

 

Scripps gets the next round in, slightly wobbly on his feet already and David follows him to the bar to try and wrestle back control of the situation.

 

“Scrippsy, about Giles…”

 

“Yeah he’s such a nice bloke, isn’t he? I’ve barely talked to anyone else here. Go and sit down” he orders. “I’ll get yours.”

 

David makes a trip to the toilet just for some time not spent in the company of fucking Giles and mother fucking Dakin.

 

When he gets back Scripps is discussing his ideas about how homophobia is incompatible with following the message of Jesus and Giles is echoing the same sentiments back to him while they gaze at each other, with that annoying earnestness that belongs only on the faces of the super pissed.

 

David decides to go home early several times but changes his mind every time as soon as the reality of a night spent alone wondering whether Don is losing his virginity to this twerp tonight hits him– it’s too hideous.

 

Halfway through the night, Dakin sods off to forget his woes with a group of girls he meets on one of his numerous trips to the bar and doesn’t return. Dakin’s other friends, who haven’t spoken to either Scripps or David all night, peel off as well.

 

David breathes a sigh of relief as it seems like their night out is finally nearly over. Of course, he hadn’t counted on Giles suggesting they move on to somewhere with a dance floor, or on Scripps being so pissed he agrees.

 

As they walk along together, Giles makes an effort to talk to David about music and singing. For some reason he doesn’t understand, David finds himself reluctant to give out any personal information and limits his answers to single syllables wherever possible until Giles stops talking to him.

 

The club they wind up in is dark, cramped and reeks of smoke, sweat and dry ice, mingled with the sweet smell of alcopops. It’s Friday night and the place is packed out with students.

 

They find a free bit of floor space to crowd into in a dark corner and when David looks back from glancing around dejectedly Giles has his face an inch away from Scripps’, hands balanced on his shoulders.

 

Cold dread spreads from the pit of his stomach and leaves him nauseous and numb. He’s so frozen in horror it takes him a good while to catch up even when Giles moves away from Scripps and repeats the gesture on him.

 

Giles is talking to him - he knows that much, but his brain hasn’t quite caught up yet. Warm breath huffs over his ear a second time, lips grazing his ear and making him shiver involuntarily as he struggles to make out words. He jumps back a step and Giles shrugs and mimes drinking.

 

“Great! No! I mean - no thanks.” He shakes his head rapidly – more to clear it than for communication and shuffles back towards Don, heart pounding in relief.

 

Giles shrugs again and moves towards the bar.

 

Don gives him a concerned smile and David wishes he could reassure him but the music is far too loud and his face refuses to pull a reassuring smile, however much he tries.

 

Someone bumps into him from behind jostling his shoulder and he spins round to find his companion from last night dabbing beer off his shirt with a frown.

 

“Oh hi, Dave. Looking for me?” He yells into his ear.

 

“Hi, Harvey. I’m here with friends.” David yells back, jerking a thumb over his shoulder before turning around to find no sign of either Scripps or Giles either at the bar or where he left them.

 

Beer breath wafts across his face. “Looks like you got ditched!” He laughs, loud enough for David to worry about a perforated eardrum. An arm is slung about his shoulders and the other man leans heavily on him.

 

“Come and dance with me? We could have some fun again.”

 

“Maybe later” David mouths, slipping out of reach. With a final glance around the place that reveals no sign of either Giles or Donald he gives up and heads home, falling exhausted and miserable into bed where he dreams of Don asking him to join the gay church he’s set up with Giles.

 

*****

 

He’s surprised to find Dakin outside his door next morning.

 

“Pos, you’d sleep with me, wouldn’t you?” He asks by way of hello, pushing his way in and making himself at home.

 

“No.” David replies glumly, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Not anymore I wouldn’t.”

 

“Oh, thanks a bunch. I’m starting to think I’m losing my touch. Where’s Scrippsy?”

 

Cold dread grips David’s heart. “Isn’t he in his room?”

 

“I’ve no idea. Oh, don’t tell me you never even made a move on him! God knows I gave you enough of a shove. I was convinced I’d find the two of you cosied up together this morning.”

 

“And, convinced of that, you came round to ask whether I still fancied you?”

 

Dakin shrugs. “I figured you would owe me a good turn by now. I forgot to factor in your newly developed frigidness.”

 

“As neither of us got any action last night I think that’s a bit rich.”

 

Dakin lights himself a cigarette and puts his feet up on the armchair.

 

“Yeah, but at least I gave it a go.”

 

David grudgingly admits he has a point.

 

For some reason, Dakin hangs around for a while. It’s odd, but kind of nice to be treated like an equal after what felt like a decade of useless pining - Just his luck that it should finally come when he couldn’t give a toss. Still, David still feels enough teenage insecurity left to rejoice for the sake of his younger self.

 

“Go on then what happened? You look even sadder than yesterday.”

 

David gives a shortened version of events from after Dakin left to pursue his own interests, leaving out the bit about bumping into the fuckwit from the other night and how his feelings towards Giles have been veering wildly between the lascivious and the scornful.

 

“If he saw Scrippsy dancing then I doubt much happened. I can’t think of a better turn off. Anyway, what do you care? If you’re not going to do anything then that doesn’t mean he can’t be happy with someone else, does it? Or are you that selfish?”

 

“No, of course not!”

 

“Well, what then?”

 

“I just don’t like Giles.”

 

“What do you mean you don’t like him? He’s like you only with charisma, what’s not to like?”

 

David purses his lips in irritation.

 

“He’s not right for Don.”

 

“Nonsense. He’s perfect for both of you. If you had a sunnier outlook on life you could be in bed right now with the two of them!”

 

David scowls at him, ignoring the voice in his head telling him that Dakin has a point.

 

“I really don’t like it when you try to help.”

 

“Well, you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs. If you don’t like it what are you going to do about it?”

 

“Nothing.” David folds his arms petulantly. “Now please would you let me get some rest, my head is killing me.”

 

Once Dakin has gone David paces around his room until he can’t stand it anymore and walks over to Scripps’, practising excuses for why he might need to see him desperately at 10 o’clock on a Saturday morning.

 

Scripps opens the door after five minutes of polite tapping followed by one minute of David thumping at it with his fist.

 

He’s a bit flushed and his hair is standing in all directions but still in his clothes from last night, which are crumpled from being slept in. David's not sure but he thinks that's probably not a sign of having just been disturbed from a wild night of passionate lovemaking - if so, it's the first thing he has to be thankful for in a while.

 

Scripps looks alarmed and David’s stomach floods with guilt as it suddenly occurs to him that thumping on the door like a madman when he only saw Don last night actually probably is quite alarming.

 

“Pos, is everything ok?”

 

David bites his lip to stop himself apologising.

 

“Would you come for a walk with me, Scrippsy?”

 

“Er, does it have to right now? I just got up, Pos.”

 

“We’ll go for breakfast.” David tries to inject some confidence into his voice in the hope that it comes across like he’s planned the whole thing and isn't making it up as he goes.

 

“I’m feeling a bit delicate, I don’t think I can manage breakfast.” Don looks a bit sheepish, as though he’s the only student to ever have had too much to drink.

 

“I hear bacon is good for hangovers.”

 

Don gives him a look that is somehow both confused and patient. “All right, let me get dressed.”

 

David moves to follow him inside but his progress is impeded by Giles’ appearance in the doorway.

 

“Oh hi, David right? It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you around, Don.” He calls over his shoulder and bounces down the stairs looking as fresh as a daisy, leaving David standing open-mouthed in the doorway.

 

It hardly seems acceptable to seek Don out in the bedroom while he’s changing, so David sits down on the couch and bites his lip and inwardly curses both himself and Dakin. Especially Dakin.

 

A tap on the door interrupts his self-loathing (and Dakin loathing) and Don's neighbour pops his head around the door without waiting for a response. David's stomach lurches unpleasantly the second he lays eyes on him.

 

“Hi … Dave? This is where you got to last night? I didn’t know you guys knew each other.”

 

And, of course, he waits for Donald to emerge from his bedroom before the penny drops.

 

“Oh!” He yells, pointing and causing Scripps to clutch at his pounding head. “This Don! I’m sorry I never knew you guys were an item.”

 

“We’re not, we’re just mates.”

 

“Really? I just assumed after what happened the other night - "

 

“Did you want something?” Don jumps to his rescue and David’s heart does a little swoop before it sinks back down towards his shoes when he remembers that he’s blown his chance now _Giles_ is in the picture.

 

“Sorry man, didn’t mean to interrupt anything, I just wondered if you had any aspirin.”

 

The moment Don shuffles off to the bathroom their mutual acquaintance drops into the seat next to David.

 

“It all makes sense now, I thought you just misheard me and you know, I didn’t want to interrupt you, you were doing such a great job, but I did think ‘ _my name’s Harvey, I wonder how he heard Don.’”_

 

“Please shut up.” David grinds through his clenched jaw.

 

“I’m sorry man, but I don’t think you’re in with much of a chance.”

 

David glares at him.

 

Harvey laughs. “You really don’t want him to know, do you?”

 

“How did you get that impression?”

 

Harvey sucks in air through his teeth and David winces.

 

“Ok, I won’t tell him.”

 

David breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

 

“Hey, you know that assignment in for Friday? I have a bit of a heavy week ahead and I’m kind of struggling. You got a first on that Bonds and Recognizances one didn’t you? I was thinking maybe you could help me out, as you owe me a favour now.”

 

David thinks for a moment about a way out of being blackmailed by the knob-end next to him, but the only conclusion he reaches is that he needs an entirely new system for picking men.

 

“Fine.”

 

Scripps returns at that moment with a bottle of aspirin.

 

“Cheers. I’ll see you later, Dave.” Harvey calls, taking the entire bottle with him.

 

Scripps plonks down next to him on the sofa and stares at his hands for what seems like forever before clearing his throat.

 

“Pos, I can see you’re still upset. I just want to say you’re right, Harvey’s not the sort of bloke I would pick out for you, I mean if it were up to me - which I know it isn’t... I’m not making this better am I?”

 

“What if it was? What sort of bloke would you like to see me with?”

 

Scripps looks stunned for a moment.

 

“Well…someone like Giles, I suppose. But if you’re happy then that’s all that matters I really don’t want this to come between us.”

 

“Thanks, Scrippsy. I don’t feel well, actually. I think I’m going to go home.”

 

“Didn’t you want to go out? I thought you wanted to talk to me.”

 

“It’ll wait.”

 

Don frowns.

 

“Ok. If you need anything call me, will you? I’ll come round.”

 

David doesn’t trust himself to speak, just nods, averting his gaze from Don’s worried face and heads back to his room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Posner pines and Scripps worries. Meanwhile, Dakin is plotting and this is unnerving for all concerned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I despair of my sentence structure in this chapter but as a serious improvement in my grammar seems unlikely tonight I'm just going ahead and posting

 

 

David’s lying on his bed the next day, feet propped against the headboard while he reads poems at random from the Norton anthology his parents gave him when he went away to uni. He doesn’t have time to read for pleasure really, but try as he might his head isn’t in the right place for working. He’s proud of himself for not having a heart attack when the door bangs off the opposite wall without warning.

 

“Why is Scripps whining about you being in a potentially abusive relationship with some dickless posh boy?”

 

“Hello, Dakin. How are you?”

 

“Confused. I thought you decided to talk to Scripps.”

 

“I did, and then I found out that you successfully set him up with your friend and he assumed my arrangement with his awful neighbour was more than it is, so I decided to follow your advice and not be selfish. I let him assume.”

 

Dakin frowns in confusion. “That doesn’t sound like my advice.”

 

“I’m paraphrasing. You said if I wasn’t going to make a move on him then I shouldn’t be so selfish as to begrudge him happiness with someone else.”

 

“That wasn’t advice, you moron, I was trying to give you a kick up the arse. Honestly, they should have had you screened before they let you attend Hector’s class. All that romantic bullshit has made your brain spongy.” He spares a distasteful glance at the anthology.

 

“It’s called culture, Dakin. Just because I spent my education actually learning rather than trying to get my teacher into bed!”

 

Dakin just smirks at what David thinks is a fairly devastating comeback.

 

“I ended up here same as you, so it can’t have been wasted. Seriously, calm down, it’s only Giles; he’s not exactly on the hunt for two-point-four kids and a two-bedroom semi. Look on the bright side, if Scripps is getting it on with him, then you don’t have to worry about him recoiling from the idea, do you?”

 

“Dakin, it’s nothing personal, but seeing as the most meaningful relationship of your life lasted just shy of four weeks, I really don’t think you get it. Besides, all of your advice up to this point has been pretty dreadful.”

 

“Alright, suppose that’s true. Say I don’t get it, I don’t know what I’m talking about, I’ve never been in love before, poor you, I’ll never know your pain, blah blah blah.”

 

David scowls at him, not that he takes any notice.

 

“You decided not to follow my advice anyway, and where has that got you?”

 

David reluctantly has to admit, not far. With as much dignity as he can muster, he mutters “Being blackmailed by a dickless posh boy.”

 

Dakin laughs. Actually laughs at him. “What?”

 

“You heard me.”

 

“I’m going to need more to go on.” Dakin grins, making himself comfy by David’s feet.

 

He tells Dakin all about the events of yesterday morning and waits for him to piss himself laughing again.

 

He doesn’t, which is the first break he’s had all term.

 

“You’re not actually going to do his work for him?”

 

“I am.”

 

“Right. To stop him solving your original problem for you, that makes sense.”

 

“To retain my fucking dignity.”

 

“I think the boat’s sailed there, mate.”

 

David sighs.

 

“I know you think I’m stupid, but I’m just not ready to have my heart broken and lose my best mate all at once.”

 

Dakin doesn’t answer. He’s sort of staring into space with his lips pressed together. David kicks him.

 

“You look like you’re trying to fart on command.”

 

“What’s he like?”

 

“Who?”

 

“This one who’s blackmailing you.”

 

“The usual entitled public school type. Bit too full of himself.”

 

Dakin tuts at him as if he’s being thick.

 

“What’s he like in bed?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Any weird stuff? Tiny dick? Questionable hygiene?”

 

“What sort of bloke do you think I’d go home with?!”

 

“I’ve not got the best impression so far. Come on, tell Uncle Stu.”

 

“As if this conversation couldn’t get any creepier.”

 

David sighs and surrenders to the inevitable. “Nothing to write home about, nothing frightening, average, and not that I noticed, but maybe he chews his toenails or something on the sly, I have heard a lot of stories about these public school boys.”

 

“If you’re talking about sex-stuff, it’s probably made up. Nothing potentially scarring then?”

 

“Just some cringey dirty talk and too much hair pulling.”

 

Dakin grins. “I can work with that, I think.”

 

He stands to leave, dusting off his jeans and pointing a finger at Posner.

 

“Don’t do his work for him. Stop being a pushover.”

 

“Can I start by telling you to stay out of my love life?”

 

He bends down like he’s talking to a little kid, an evil glint in his eye. “Sure, why not?”

 

And then he’s gone, as suddenly as he arrived, like some well-meaning but misguided phantasm.

 

David tries not to think about it. He’s arranged to meet Don later and he needs to preserve his mental energy for pretending to be happy for him and his new relationship.

 

Thankfully his efforts are spared, Don doesn’t mention Giles at all for the next few days and, with Dakin presumably off annoying somebody else, David settles into safe, mostly-secret pining - it’s familiar territory at least.

 

Cruel reality intrudes, however, the next time they meet for music practice. They’ve just finished running through a new duet and Don pauses in packing away his sheet music and says apropos of nothing:

“Giles is a nice guy.”

 

David makes a vague humming sound that could possibly be mistaken for agreement.

 

“Perhaps we ought to all go out together again. We don’t have to bring Dakin if you don’t want to.”

 

“Maybe at some point. I’m a bit busy lately, Scrippsy.”

 

“Busier than normal?”

 

“Fraid so. I’ve taken some extra work on. Actually, I’d better be going.”

 

“You’re not coming for a drink?”

 

Don looks wounded and David shakes his head, flushing with shame at ducking out of their usual routine – duets are rare lately and retreating to the pub to dissect their progress has become an important part of their music practice.

 

He pauses and smiles what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “But you’re right, we should get together after I’m done.” He says and hurries away before Don has time to ask questions.

 

For the next two days, he manages to largely avoid company, going early for meals to avoid bumping into anyone he knows and spending the rest of the time holed up in his room trying to produce two completely different essays. A part of him even enjoys the freedom of taking the question in two different directions, although a larger part of him wishes he were out in the sunshine.

 

On the third day, he finds a note from Dakin pinned to his door telling him that his problem is solved. It’s ominous, to say the least, and he doesn’t feel up to probing any further just yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone is a complete idiot

 

The end of the weeklong essay marathon finds David on his way to deliver his work to Harvey. He was going to call into Don on his way back, of course, but just as he’s tiptoeing past the door opens and Don’s head pops out.

 

“Hey, Pos. Are you free for a chat?”

 

Unable to think of a suitable excuse as to why he’s sneaking past his best friend’s door, he nods, hastily folding the essay behind his back as he follows Don inside.

 

“I have to be off soon but we can have a chat.”

 

He’s anticipating something light-hearted, maybe with tea, but Don is stony-faced and for a heart-stopping second David is convinced he’s furious with him.

 

“I wanted to say I know why you’ve been off lately and I don’t blame you” Don says before he’s even closed the door. “I’m going to talk to Dakin about what he did and you mustn’t worry about what people are saying. I know things are probably tough right now but whatever you decide to do I’ll support you.”

 

“What are people saying? I’ve barely been out of my room this week.”

 

Don pulls a sympathetic face.

 

“It’s nasty gossip, honestly, I don’t place much stock in it. Anyway, It’s not the size that counts, or so I’m told.”

 

“Donald, I’m shocked! I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“You do know about Dakin?”

 

When David just shrugs Don buries his head in his hands. “Pos, I’m really sorry, I’ve put my foot in it.”

 

“Oh bloody hell, what’s he done now?”

 

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

 

“What’s he done?” David asks again, unable to keep the note of panic from his voice entirely.

 

“There was a house party a couple of days ago and Dakin… and Harvey …”

 

There are some hand motions. David continues to look blankly at him.

 

“Apparently they got off with each other in front of half the college and…I think more than a drunken snog happened afterwards. Things got a bit… _loud_ \- next door.”

 

Don winces, barely able to keep looking at him. He looks absolutely miserable.

 

All David can think to say is “Oh.”

 

“There’ve been a few mean rumours flying since then about Harvey.”

 

“I see. Well, I should be going.”

 

David gestures to the door, unable to sound convincingly sad while he simultaneously fights the urge to kiss Don for being so protective of him.

 

“OK. I just want you to know that I think what Dakin did was really out of order and… I’ll talk to him.” He repeats a bit lamely

 

David doesn’t really want to drop Dakin in it with Scripps, though God only knows what the idiot thinks he’s doing shagging Harvey, so he just smiles and turns to go with an overly cheerful “No need!”

 

He doesn’t make it to the door though, because there’s a sharp tap against the wood and Dakin walks in, summoned like some evil genie.

 

“I thought I heard my name. Hello Pos, I was just about to go and check on you in case you’d died.”

 

His grin practically stretches ear to ear and David wonders how half his head hasn’t come unhinged and toppled off

 

“Dakin, I don’t think that’s appropriate” Scripps mutters. “Besides, I doubt that David wants to see you right now.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Don grabs him by the elbow and drags him to the far corner.

 

“Don’t go anywhere, Pos.” Dakin orders, using his free hand to point at David over his shoulder.

 

David misses most of Donald’s furiously hissed side of the discussion. Dakin has no qualms about… well, anything as far as David can tell, and certainly not about being overheard, so his side of the conversation comes across loud and clear.

 

“Pos isn’t going out with Harvey! They bonked once! He was probably put off by his absurdly small dick, isn’t that right, Pos?”

 

“Er… _bits_ of it.”

 

“See, I wouldn’t do that to Pos. You’re ridiculously romantic Scrippsy, that’s your problem.”

 

“Um, right.” Don drops Dakin’s sleeve immediately and blinks a few times, looking a bit dazed.

 

“So…” He says finally, turning to David who is still standing by the door as directed. “so you’re not seeing anyone right now?”

 

David grins. “No.”

 

“Oh. That’s …” he rubs a hand absently over the back of his neck.

 

Behind Don’s back, Dakin rolls his eyes and turns around to face the wall.

 

Don coughs awkwardly and looks down at his shoes. “Sorry, I just assumed. Never mind, I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.”

 

Still smiling encouragingly, David takes a nervous step towards him. “I hope so.”

 

“What am I like? You had to be somewhere. I dragged you in here and stuck my oar in. I won’t keep you.”

 

David makes his way numbly to the door, wondering what on Earth to make of the exchange. He thought, no he was _sure_ that Don had looked happy for a second. It’s only when Dakin pries the essay for Harvey out of his hands that he realises that Oxford's newest answer to Dennis the Menace is walking beside him.

 

“We don’t need that now” Dakin says, ripping it in half without so much as asking.

 

“Hey, that took me ages!”

 

“Look on it as a lesson.”

 

David trots to catch up with him as Dakin strides across the courtyard.

 

“What did you do?”

 

“Didn’t Scrippsy tell you? I shagged your friend Harvey. Made sure loads of people knew about it too.”

 

“Oooookay, why would you do that?”

 

“Because otherwise, nobody would have believed me when I told them about his abnormally tiny equipment. Keep up, it’s hardly rocket science.’

 

“You’d sleep with Harvey to stop him blackmailing me?’

 

“Sure, why not? He’s not actually repulsive, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it?”

 

David laughs, it sounds a bit hysterical judging by the way Dakin looks at him but he doesn’t care.

 

“So what did you tell people to make him back off?”

 

Dakin smirks. “Where it counts he’s reminiscent of a nude by Poussin. Specifically, it’s three inches … erect.”

 

The smirk morphs into a grin as two girls pass them on the stairs, the fact that they obviously overheard that particular snippet (and the bemused look they share) clearly insufficient to deter Dakin from flirting.

 

“I’m not sure that’s believable, medically speaking.”

 

“Well, people did believe me, enough to spread it around, at least. It turns out he’s not hugely popular, I can’t imagine why.”

 

“Naturally, now I’m not giving him the essay you’ll correct people though?”

 

David unlocks his door and Dakin walks in without waiting to be invited, taking the best chair and putting his feet up.

 

“Why? It’ll do him good to be taken down a peg or two… or an inch or two.” He laughs like he’s made the most hilarious joke in the world. “If he starts at you again there’s plenty more I can make up.”

 

“You’re evil.”

 

“I’m ingenious. Aren’t you going to thank me?”

 

“I suppose it would be rude not to.”

 

“It would. I should thank you as well really.”

 

David laughs. “You didn’t actually enjoy it?”

 

Dakin shrugs. “It wasn’t awful and I was getting a bit desperate – I need _someone_ to go on the rebound with. It’s the only thing for heartbreak, trust me.”

 

David pouts. “I haven’t had much luck with it. There’s no hope at all with Felicity then?”

 

“Nah. She said it’s over so that’s it. I don’t waste my time chasing things that aren’t meant to be.”

 

It’s as close to wistful as David has ever heard from him and he twists round in his chair for a closer look at his friend's expression.

 

Dakin notices him looking, he had months of practice at school after all, and suddenly the impervious smirk is back – it’s a shame, for a split second he looked almost as human as everyone else.

 

“Besides,” he continues, his grin so obviously forced David wonders why he’s bothering “it was a learning experience – can you believe he was hardly interested in me at all?!”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I think I get what they mean now when they say self-satisfaction is a turn-off.”

 

“'They’ being?

 

Dakin shrugs. “An ex or two. I was seeing this girl Maria last term and she once...”

 

“Ugh! Can we change the subject away from your sex life please?”

 

“Alright, what was that train wreck back there with Scripps?”

 

David frowns at him. “I’ve changed my mind, tell me what Maria said.”

 

“No, you’re right this is much more interesting. You were about to fall into each other’s arms and then you both just backed off for some reason.”

 

“Isn’t it obvious? He doesn’t like me like that. He had the opportunity to say something and he didn’t, ergo I was right and I shouldn’t let this _thing_ ruin our friendship.”

 

He heaves himself away from where he's sat at his desk with a sigh and collapses onto the bed, flinging his arms over his face like a Pre-Raphaelite heroine – it helps a little, acting the part of the tragic lovesick figure, it always has.

 

“He was so kind and sweet when he thought you’d tried to steal my boyfriend.”

 

“If you’re just going to moon over Scripps then I’ve got better things to do elsewhere.”

 

“Bye then, Dakin.”

 

Seconds pass in silence and David risks a peep to see if he’s gone. He's hasn't, of course, but he's standing now, and frowning.

 

“You ought to move on you know.” He says, dark eyes fixed intently on David. “If you’ve made your mind up. You wasted enough time pining after me. Give being happy a chance.”

 

Then he’s gone, leaving David more confused than he ever has before.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Posner is a man of action... as long as he's got his inhaler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to learn about compound and complex sentences. I'm not sure it's working so sorry if the punctuation gives you a migraine

 

That night David goes to the pub with Scripps and Giles. Don’s been dropping subtle hints for ages - from anyone else, David would find it alarmingly pushy.

 

The weather’s beautiful and they choose a bench in the beer garden. They arrive early but the place is already filling up with students and office workers all eager to enjoy the sun, and David somehow ends up sitting wedged between Giles and the wall, Don opposite them. He can’t think of a way to say he’d much prefer things the other way around without sounding rude, so he doesn’t mention it. Secretly, he wonders if they’ve had a fight.

 

Giles barely shuts up all evening, bombarding David with questions about his favourite classical composers, what he wants to do after he graduates, and plenty of other things that he doesn’t have a clue how to answer. Meanwhile, Don excuses himself at frequent intervals in between bouts of tomb-like silence and spends most of the night looking glumly into his pint. At about half ten he tells them he has a headache and goes home.

 

David squints at his retreating back - because Don **never** drinks when he has a headache, and his bathroom cabinet contains about three half-empty bottles of paracetamol because he always forgets, and buys a new one when he feels under the weather.

 

Giles nudges him with his elbow to regain his attention and chortles.

 

“Hey, did you hear about Donald’s neighbour? Stu told me he says ‘ _Mummy’_ when he cums!”

 

Clearly, there was some pushback from Harvey over the assignment then.

 

“No.” David replies, tersely. “Giles, do you know what the matter is with Don? It’s almost like he’s avoiding us.”

 

“No idea, sorry. He seemed fine with asking you along.”

 

“As long as I’m not intruding.”

 

Giles laughs. “Don’t be silly, why would you be intruding? The pub’s not exactly a private club.”

 

Amused blue eyes meet David’s and a feeling of unease creeps over him as the acceptable point to break eye contact comes and goes, and Giles still stares.

 

Giles smiles, and almost imperceptibly shifts his body until he’s suddenly somehow closer, pressing gently against David.

 

The warmth of Giles’ body soaks through his clothes, and soft blond hairs prickle against the skin on the back of his hand.

 

In that second inspiration comes to him like a flash of lightning: he is, he realises, an absolute fucking idiot.

 

He ought to make his apologies to Giles; Giles is really a very nice man. He definitely ought to take a moment to talk it through and make sure he’s completely correct, but he can’t sit still for another second.

 

“Look” He says loudly as Giles leans in to kiss him. “Sorry to do this but I have to go. We should do this again sometime though.” He says with as much dignity as he can manage while escaping from a picnic table.

“The three of us!” He calls back over his shoulder, wary of causing any further confusion.

 

He hurries out of the pub garden and onto the street before breaking into a jog that takes him the short distance back to college.

 

Turning through the archway of Don’s college David catches sight of him in the courtyard making his way slowly towards his staircase.

 

Lungs burning, he’s forced to stop in order to call out.

 

“Scrippsy! Donald!”

 

Don turns and, mercifully, walks back towards him; buying David vital moments to get his inhaler out and take a puff.

 

“Pos, is everything alright?”

 

David holds up a hand for more time. Patient thing that he is, Don waits.

 

The smell of damp, warm grass surrounds them and the happy shouts from various parties break through the balmy summer air. David pants for breath.

 

Don frowns. “Take your time, it’s ok.”

 

David nods his thanks.

 

“Donald” He says as soon as he can speak.

 

Don’s frown deepens at the use of his full name. “Am I in trouble?”

 

Shaking his head, David privately thinks Mr Darcy didn’t get treated with this level of suspicion when he tried to be romantic – actually, bad example - he dismisses the thought. 

 

“I have two extremely serious questions for you and I’d like you to be honest.”

 

Don continues to look worried but nods his agreement.

 

“One: are you seeing Giles romantically?”

 

He actually jumps as if something’s startled him. “What? No, I just think he’s a really nice bloke and we’ve been out for drinks a few times – as mates!” He adds hurriedly. “He bloody fancies you! He’s been asking me to set you up with him for ages, but I thought you were seeing that prick Harvey.”

 

David grins, imagining he could now rival Dakin in the impossibly-wide-smile-stakes.

 

“That’s what I thought.” His grin dims a little at the thought of his own idiocy. “Only, I just worked it out a minute ago. I hope you won’t think I’m desperately stupid.”

 

“Pos, you know you’re smarter than any of us.” Don smiles, his face lighting up. “What was the other thing?”

 

“Eh?”

 

“You said you wanted to ask two things.”

 

“Oh, yes.” David clears his throat. “My second question is: would you hate me forever if I kissed you now?”

 

Don’s expression turns panicked and for a hideous second, David thinks he’s got the wrong end of the stick yet again. Then Don looks down, shuffles his feet and ruffles a hand through his hair.

 

“No, I wouldn’t hate you.”

 

They share a shy smile and David steps tentatively closer. Don’s face drops.

 

“The only thing is I’ve never... I would hate to disappoint you.”

 

Rather than waste breath saying Don couldn’t disappoint him if he tried, David closes the distance between them and then nothing matters in the world but the feeling of Don’s mouth moving softly under his and Don’s fingers twining with his own.

 

*****

 

They’re both busy in the morning, which is a shame because David would be content for them to doze together in Don’s bed all day. But then, as Don points out, it would be stupid to nearly give himself a nervous breakdown winning a scholarship to Oxford, only to fail one of his modules because he missed a vital point that came up the one day he bunked off to stay in bed.

 

No vital points come up, but he supposes if he bunked off then it would be a different story. By ten o’clock he’s completely knackered and at a loose end for an hour until Don’s lecture finishes.

 

The sun is shining and going home to bed will definitely result in oversleeping by at least five hours, so he gets a coffee on the high street while he waits and sits at a table on the pavement to read over the feedback on his latest assignment.

 

A shadow looms over him briefly before someone drops unceremoniously into the chair opposite. David doesn’t look up; he’s come to expect it by now.

 

“You’re looking very chipper this morning.”

 

David doesn’t look up from his work. “Morning, Dakin.”

 

“Go on then, spill the beans. Who? Where? How?”

 

“It’s a secret, you’ll only be insufferable if I tell you.”

 

“Scripps then, obviously. Don’t feel you need to start gushing about how clever I am and how I’m always right. It’ll be embarrassing for you.”

 

“You wish.” He puts down his folder and looks up at Dakin with a grin. “He never was with Giles, they just got pissed and he passed out at Don’s place that’s why I thought they’d slept together.”

 

Dakin reaches across the table and cuffs him lightly on the side of the head.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Idiot.”

 

David scowls at him and tries to flatten his hair.

 

“Was it romantic? I bet it was revoltingly sweet.”

 

David just continues to scowl.

 

“He made the move in the end, obviously.”

 

“Actually no. I realised that he’d been into me all along, call it an epiphany – I was looking for normal signals when I should have been looking for Scripps signals.”

 

He takes a deep breath to steel himself and continues in a rush. “It’s possible you may have been right.”

 

He changes the subject quickly before Dakin can start gloating in earnest. “Giles wanted Don to set him up with me! Can you believe it?”

 

“Yes, of course. I kept telling you you’d got your knickers in a twist over nothing. So go on tell me everything. The chastity saga is over now, I presume. He worn you out already?”

 

“Not exactly. Nothing happened. Well, it did, but it wasn’t anything that **you** would consider worth mentioning.”

 

“Go on, I put a lot of work in on this.”

 

Secretly pleased about being pressed on the subject, David scooches his seat closer and continues.

 

“He says he isn’t ready, but he has feelings for me. He wasn’t going to do anything about it because he’s still not sure about sex and was being all noble, but he was unhappy about the thought of me with someone else; even someone he approved of as much as Giles.”

 

Dakin is grinning almost wide enough for David to see every tooth in his head.

 

He pauses to level an accusing eye at his friend. “What?”

 

“I might have put in a discreet word.”

 

“Dakin! You promised you wouldn’t.”

 

“I don’t remember doing that. Anyway, relax, it was just a bit of reverse psychology: how good I thought you and Giles would be together, how I didn’t think you were hot at all, that sort of thing.”

 

“Thanks a bunch!”

 

“It worked, didn’t it? So go on what did happen? Something’s put you in a good mood.”

 

“We cuddled on his bed and just talked all night. There was some kissing.” David shrugs, hoping his cheeks don’t look as pink as they feel.

 

To his surprise, Dakin doesn’t mock or sneer.

 

“As long as you’re both happy.” He smiles. It appears perfectly genuine.

 

“I think we are. The question now is: what about you?”

 

“What about me?”

 

“Do you miss her?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Your serious girlfriend with the silly name.”

 

“Not really.” Dakin admits glumly. He sits poking the sugar bowl with a little plastic stirrer.

 

David watches him make and reshape little hills and dunes until he has to fold his hands to stop himself from snatching the thing away.

 

“I think I’m going to help you.”

 

Dakin scoffs. “I don’t need any help. I certainly don’t need **your** help.”

 

“What makes you so sure?”

 

“Your judgement is terrible! Besides, shouldn’t you focus on getting into Scripps’ pants before you go inflicting your advice on me?”

 

“Well, it sounds like I’m doing better than you right now. If there’s one thing you’ve taught me it’s that the sign of a good friend is endless, unwelcome meddling.”

 

“Not all friends - you’re a special case” Dakin grumbles. “What will it take for you to not do anything of the sort?”

 

David pretends to think. “You could hang out with us more without an ulterior motive… maybe even have a chat if you feel down instead of tearing through people’s lives like a fairy godmother on crack.”

 

He’s fairly certain that underneath his frown Dakin is fighting a smile.

 

“It’s that or I go through your address book and start calling people at random.”

 

“I’m not a middle-aged woman; I don’t have an address book.”

 

Dakin stares at the tabletop silently. He’s silent for so long that David worries and has opened his mouth to apologise for upsetting him when Dakin takes a deep breath and raises his head.

 

“Look alright, if it’ll make you shut up.”

 

David grins.


End file.
